


Hold Me Down

by helldyke420



Series: Champion [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Child Abuse, Closeted Trans Character, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Humanstuck, Incest, M/M, Rape, Self Harm, Sexual Abuse, Trans!Kurloz Makara, Transphobia, vaginal rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 18:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helldyke420/pseuds/helldyke420
Summary: It made him sick when his dad acted so sweet after an episode. It made him sicker that he craved it. The gentle touch, his arms around him gently. Holding him close like he always, always wanted, even when his dad choked him, slammed him into walls, broke his limbs, ruptured something important.





	Hold Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Hold Me Down - Halsey

Kurloz flips the little blade over in his fingers, looking it over. There’s barely any light in here, just the glow of his blacklight from his bedroom, eeking into the attached bathroom, but it’s enough to reflect off the new metal, fresh out of the box.

He’d just bought a new one.

He bites his lip as he pushes his hoodie sleeve up, exposing evidence of his previous indulgence. He traces over one of the horizontal scars.

_Remember kids, cut horizontally for attention, and vertically for results!_

The edgy joke was fairly popular, and he’d had it thrown at him a few times. But he didn’t want attention. He knew it would be best for everyone if they ignored him completely, and let him just waste away.

He sucks in a breath and presses the blade into his arm, drawing it across a less densely scarred portion. He trembles a little as the blood wells up in his wound, pouring down his arm. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He slowly, methodically, opens up another cut, pressing it deep. It hurts, so bad, but for whatever reason his messed up brain needed that like he needed his next breath.

The blood plinks into the sink, rolling slowly down the porcelain into the drain. He wants more. He deserves more. He presses the blade a little farther up than usual, cutting into a spot that wasn’t scarred at all, and internally he wonders when enough was enough. How many marks on his skin until he felt okay? How many pieces of himself did he have to carve off? To be good? To be enough?

The blood is getting to be … a lot. He sets the razor blade down on the back of the sink gently, and flicks the water on. He rinses the cuts, washes all the blood down the drain. It’s a methodical, predictable process that makes his brain calm down a little, makes him feel at ease. He pats the area dry with a towel, hissing softly as he presses down too hard.

He’d been careless.

He hears the footsteps, now that the water is off. Someone was in his room. He stares at the door into the bathroom, and sees movement. He yanks his hoodie sleeve down, and opens the door cautiously.  
“Kurloz.” His father stands in the middle of the room. “You’re still awake.” It’s not a question. He shuffles a little, and nods. He holds his damaged arm close to himself, feeling it oozing blood into the fleece of his hoodie. He’d have to clean it again. “It’s one in the morning. I could hear you stomping around. Do you have to be so fucking loud all the time?” Kurloz’s eyes dart to his bedroom door, breath quickening.  
“I’m sorry.” He forces himself to talk, voice barely a whisper.  
“You always say sorry, but you never change. I take care of you for sixteen years of your worthless life, and you have the nerve to not even allow me a proper night of sleep?” His father is in his space now, and he resists the urge to back up. He’d be hit either way, but if he avoided it, it would hurt worse. “Of course you have nothing to say anymore. All you can do is cry and whine and bitch when I go out of my fucking way to feed you, clothe you, and house you!” The hit comes then, and Kurloz stumbles a little, holding his nose. He can feel the blood dripping down his face as he rights himself a little, staying as still as possible to dissuade his father from further punishment. It doesn’t seem to work, as he’s then grabbed by his hair, and thrown to the ground. His father seems to have been a little pent up, slamming his foot into Kurloz’s stomach and making him gasp, curling in on himself like there’s anything about him worth protecting. The next blow hits his leg, and it’s better there. Still hurts, but better. He whines softly. “Don’t you dare try to fucking hide from me.” He growls, and his still bleeding arm is grabbed roughly, yanking him up. He can’t help the loud, pained sound he makes, with his dad digging his nails into the wounds. “Would you just shut up?” He snarls, pushing him against his wall. The back of his head hits the wall hard, and his vision goes fuzzy for a second. He slides down against the wall, looking up at him. He can feel tears running down his face as he cries silently, and his dad just stares down at him. His expression is unreadable with the dim purple light pointing at his back, making him nothing but a shadow in front of him. Kurloz doesn’t dare move, waiting for the next blow.

What he does is much worse.

“Shit…” His dad mutters, looking away from him. Kurloz leans his head back against the wall, breathing slowly. He was done for tonight, then. That tone meant regret. That tone meant he had a few days of respite before his anger began to build again. “Kurloz…” His dad kneels, and Kurloz watches him with weary eyes. “Daddy’s so sorry.” His eyes slide shut as a pit forms in his stomach. His father was predictable. “Please look at me. Please.” He opens his eyes again, meeting his. They all had the same deep brown eyes, but Kurloz’s eyes were a little softer looking, lashes long enough he could feel them on his cheekbone if he closed his eyes a little harder than usual. He looked like his mom, in that way. Lips, cheekbones, eyes. He’s pretty sure his dad can see that, too. “Let’s clean you up, sweetheart.” His voice is so gentle, and it hurts him worse than when his dad called him a bitch, an idiot, a cunt. But he allows his father to help him up, and lead him to his bathroom.

He’s sat down on the closed toilet seat, and his dad starts going through his medicine cabinet. He pulls out the cotton balls and opens it up, pulling a few out. His dad kneels in front of him, taking his chin gently and dabbing the blood still dripping from his nose. He swears softly when it doesn’t stop, and Kurloz watches him dully. He wanted to take care of himself. It made him sick when his dad acted so sweet after an episode. It made him sicker that he craved it. The gentle touch, his arms around him gently. Holding him close like he always, always wanted, even when his dad choked him, slammed him into walls, broke his limbs, ruptured something important.  
“You’re gonna be okay, Loz. Daddy’s got you.” Kurloz blinks slowly, eyes heavy.  
“‘m tired, dad…” He manages, chest hurting with the effort it takes to talk.  
“I know sweetheart … just … just gotta clean you up a little.” He dabs at his lip gently, and Kurloz realizes that it must have split when he backhanded him. “I think the bleeding is done.” He throws the cotton ball away, and his hands are suddenly on the hem of Kurloz’s shirt, tugging it up. Kurloz’s eyes close as he goes still. It’s not worth it to fight him on this. His hand ghosts over his stomach, and he feels the dull pain of a bruise being poked at. “It’s … not too bad. Does it hurt?” He nods a little. “It’s probably just going to bruise…” His dad trails off, and Kurloz opens his eyes to meet his dad’s. He knew how this night ended. He wasn’t sure of his dad’s level of awareness of his patterns. He was probably too drunk most of the time to register them. “I’ll help you over to bed, okay?” He nods tinily, and his dad’s hands are on him again, one on his hip, the other taking his hand. His dad helps him up, but his hands linger on Kurloz’s thin hips. He doesn’t push them away, just waits for him to let go to limp over to his bed. His dad flicks the lights off to the bathroom, and he feels his eyes on him as he moves his blankets aside to sit on his bed. When he’s settled, his dad goes over to his closet, rifling through his clothes for something.

It doesn’t take long for him to find what he wanted, pulling out a very baggy shirt. He comes back over to Kurloz. “Take the hoodie off.” Kurloz hesitates, hugging himself tightly. He didn’t want this. “Kurloz. Take it off.” The short hesitation is the only resistance he puts up, and he slips the oversized hoodie off his shoulders, letting it rest behind him on the bed. He feels too open in just a baggy shirt and jeans. His dad spots the blood, of course, and frowns. “What is that?” Kurloz looks away, but offers his arm. “I didn’t know you were still doing that.” That’s all he has to say on the matter, apparently, because he lets go of his arm and takes the hem of his shirt. “Arms up.” He complies, and his shirt is lifted off over his head. He’s not much to look at, too thin and marked up all over. But his dad’s breath is getting heavier, and after a moment he’s being pressed back against the bed, hair spilling onto the blankets under him. His dad unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down his hips, leaving him in just his black bra and panties. He squirms a little as his dad’s hands press over his stomach, trailing a little scar. “You’re such a beautiful girl.” He says softly, and Kurloz inhales sharply. “Daddy loves you. More than you’ll ever know.” His words are worse than his fists.

His dad’s hands make their way up, reaching under him and unhooking his bra, pulling it off gently. It’s discarded somewhere, and Kurloz just lets him continue. His dad kisses his chest, trailing down from his collarbone until he takes Kurloz’s nipple between his teeth, biting down gently and making him arch, letting out a breathy sound. His dad laughs softly.  
“So pretty like this … such a good girl for your daddy.” Kurloz shuts his eyes, unable to look at him. Why did he do this? What was so wrong with him that his father couldn’t just be his dad? Had to hit him and then fuck him? “Can’t you talk for daddy? You like it when I’m gentle, don’t you? I know you do … you always press up into me when I treat you like my little princess.”  
“I’m tired, dad. Please…” He says softly.  
“We’ll be quick.” His breath is hot in his ear, and then lips are pressed against his.

He has two options.

If he fights it, his dad is more angry, and they’d be back to his angry stage immediately.

If he reciprocates, he’d have a week of chilly indifference.

Kurloz can’t remember the last time he fought him on anything.

Kurloz’s lips move slowly against his father’s, kissing him back gently. His dad holds him like he’s something important, hands gentle on his skin, and he wants to sob. He wants to scream and hit him and demand to know why _this_ is what he gets. Some kids parents were strict but loving. Some were fun, and caring. He wasn’t good enough for that. He got bruises and bloody noses and his father’s hands over his sex, rubbing his folds through the cotton of his panties. He’s being extra slow tonight, teasing him and kissing him and smiling against his lips.  
“So quiet and shy.” His father murmurs. “You’re still daddy’s little princess, aren’t you? Always so sweet for daddy.” Kurloz doesn’t respond. He can’t. His words are completely lost in this situation. What good are words anyway when they mean nothing? What is stop to a rapist? What is please, not again, to an abuser? There was nothing he could say to change this.

His dad pulls away, arranging him so his head was on his pillows, laying on top of his rumpled purple sheets. Kurloz’s eyes meet his father’s, weary meeting dark and hungry. His dad pulls his panties down gently, exposing Kurloz to him completely. It’s nothing new to him, but he still comes back, again and again. His fingers spread his pussy open, and he flicks a finger over his clit, making him gasp, hands curling in the sheets. His dad laughs gently, and spreads his scarred thighs wider apart, burying his face in his son’s sex. Kurloz lets out a broken moan as his father sucks on his clit, two fingers pushing into his cunt. He hates that he’s responsive, hates that it feels good for his dad to rape him. Normal people would cry. Normal people would scream and struggle. But that begged the question of whether or not that actually worked. His method didn’t work either, but it hurt less.

Kurloz moans softly as his dad’s tongue fucks him slowly. It’s wet and warm, and he fights the urge to close his legs around his dad’s head, bury his hands in his hair, pull him closer. He wanted more, but he’d give anything to make this stop. His dad laughs like he knows what Kurloz is thinking, pulling back slowly. Kurloz relaxes, letting the tension in his thighs fade as his dad just looks at him. After a short moment he feels his lips against his inner thigh, pressing little kisses to his scarred skin. There’s a dull pain as he sucks a mark into his skin, making it nice and dark before letting go and kissing it gently.  
“Dad…” Kurloz says softly. He isn’t sure why. He had nothing to say, no words could stop him.  
“Yes baby?” He asks, running his hands over his pale thighs. Kurloz’s head relaxes back against the pillows, exposing the column of his throat. He was giving up on the situation. He felt like the last piece of his heart just shattered. He was done. “So pretty…” His dad moves up his body, and he feels his erection against his thigh as he’s kissed again. His dad tastes like cigarettes and pussy, and Kurloz just lets him explore his mouth, opening up for him. His dad groans into his mouth, grinding up against him. Kurloz can’t keep from gasping as he rubs up against him just right, sending a bolt of pleasure through him. His dad pulls back, and attaches his mouth to the soft skin of his breasts, leaving a trail of dark marks up over his chest and neck. They’re too high up to hide, and he wants to die because he has school tomorrow and everyone was going to call him a slut again, and his teachers would mutter about him caring more about having fun than paying attention in class.

“Kurloz.” His father moves back a ways, and Kurloz barely brings himself to react. “You think you’re ready, sweetheart?” Kurloz looks away from him, relaxing again. He could take that however he wanted. Kurloz just stares out the window at the woods on the other side of the road. It’s not enough to distract from the dull ache of being entered. Kurloz’s back arches a little as he’s filled, a soft whimper leaving him. His dad is big, and hard to take. The first time he’d done this he’d bled like crazy, and his dad hadn’t had the decency to be sorry about it. He’s used to the feeling now, though his body was never meant to accommodate something so big somewhere so small. He whines softly as he feels his dad’s skin all the way up against him, closer than a parent and child should ever, ever be. He shifts a little, trying to make himself relax and breathe. He dad groans softly as Kurloz squeezes around him, muscles tense and anxious. He’s being kissed again. Kurloz barely thinks to kiss back, sucking on his tongue as his dad rocks into him gently, barely moving in and out, letting him adjust.

After what his dad deems an appropriate amount of time, he starts to move. It doesn’t hurt, just aches. He hates that the stretch feels good, that the motion is nice as he’s fucked into his mattress. Kurloz moans softly, fisting his hand in his sheets again. His dad grunts and slams into him hard, making him cry out a little in pain.  
“I love … fuck … love your cute little noises.” His dad growls, holding him gently despite it all. One of his hands moves off of his hip, trailing down to rub his clit, trying to keep pace with his thrusts. Kurloz arches again, making a pathetic breathy sound, little “ah!”’s that were getting slowly higher. “You love it when I fuck you, don’t you? You’re so- fuck! -good for daddy. So fucking tight and wet for me.” He splits his fingers, his pointer and middle rubbing up against the sides of his clit, making him squirm and moan. He sounds needy and desperate. He sounds like a slut. Maybe he was easy. Maybe he was a slut. He let his dad fuck him often enough, not even prostitutes did that. At this point, he was beyond ruined, and he had no idea why he was still here.

He wonders if his dad will be sorry after he kills himself.

“Daddy, p-please-” He manages, voice laboured. He’s close to the edge, and he doesn’t want it. “Please stop!”

He tightens around his length as he’s forced to orgasm, thighs tensing and his head falling back. His eyes flutter as he comes down, feeling his dad pull out. There’s a few short, wet noises before he feels the heat of his father’s release on his thighs. Kurloz goes limp, eyes sliding shut. His dad is quiet, hands still on him, breathing heavily. After a moment he gets up, and Kurloz expects him to leave. Instead he feels his hands again after a moment, wiping at the cum on his thighs and stomach. His eyes flutter open reluctantly, staring at his father as he cleans him up. He’s thorough, and he tosses the tissue in the garbage when he’s done. 

They lock eyes.

His father looks away first, grabbing the clean shirt he pulled out of the closet.  
“Come here, sweetheart.” He mumbles, and when Kurloz doesn’t move, he grabs his wrist, yanking him up. Kurloz whimpers softly, unused to his dad flipping so quick after this. “Daddy said to come here.” He snaps, and Kurloz crawls into his lap slowly, wrapping himself around his dad. His dad holds him gently, rocking him a little. “I love you Kurloz.”

“Daddy loves you.”

**Author's Note:**

> urgh. this is bad. i felt like expressing some shit so i wrote it down. trauma is weird amiright ladies.  
> obligatory disclaimer that abuse, rape, pedophilia, and incest are all very wrong and very bad.  
> feel free to leave comments and criticisms.  
> tumblr is helldyke420


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